


Three Ways to Travel

by Silent_journey



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Doctor Who, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Torchwood
Genre: Jack Harkness Flirts, Jack being Jack, M/M, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_journey/pseuds/Silent_journey
Summary: Steve Rogers meets a stranger in a dance hall in 1940.James Barnes meets a stranger in a prison camp in 1942.Captain America meets a stranger in Germany in 2012.The Winter Soldier meets a stranger in a store in 2014.Jack Harkness meets two men as broken as he is in 2017.





	1. 1940

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing...  
> I saw a thing about this group on Tumblr...and I don't even know what happened.

Before the serum that had turned him into a walking tank, Steve Rogers didn’t look like much. He was too skinny, with bones sharp enough to cut glass. Beside Bucky, the dark-haired charmer, Steve was easily overlooked.

Which was why Bucky was out on the dance floor while Steve did his best to hold up the wall in the darkest shadows of the dance hall. It was better in the shadow. From there no one could see the longing in his eyes, the dark jealousy that swirled in his chest like a stormcloud.

When a figure in a long coat slid up beside him, Steve didn’t even bother to turn his head.

The song changed from the swift hop to something smooth and slow. On the floor, Bucky pulled Lucy close.  As Bucky turned them around, Steve caught a flash of his bright blue eyes landing on Steve. Checking to make sure he wasn’t collapsed in an asthma attack no doubt. 

Stupid jerk.

After a few more measures of the song, Steve couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t watch as the man he loved more than the world held some girl. He would just wait outside until Bucky was done. There was a chill in the air, but the pain it would bring to his lungs would be nothing compared to the throbbing ache in his chest.

A sigh escaped his lips as he straightened.

“Wishing you were out there instead?”

The sigh must have been louder than he thought, or perhaps the stranger beside him had particularly good hearing. Steve gave his attention over to the stranger and his question. The man was tall and dark like Bucky. A cocky smirk reminiscent of Bucky's devilish grin. His arms had been crossed over his chest, one foot braced on the wall behind him, all confidence and charm. No doubt the man had as little trouble with the dames as Bucky did. As Steve watched, the stranger straightened from his casual lean and held out a hand. “Jack Harkness,” he introduced. 

While Steve wasn’t popular with the ladies, he could hear the undertones in Jack’s voice. The interest, the invitation. All he had offered was his name, but Steve knew there was so much more on the table. The neighborhood Bucky and him lived in was filled with men like Jack though most weren’t as blatant in their solicitations. 

Steve was tempted. So tempted.

It was instinct to glance at Bucky. The brunette’s attention seemed to be focused on the coyly smiling dame in his arms. 

Turning back, he found the stranger’s hand still outstretched, not an ounce of impatience in his eyes. That more than anything had Steve responding. “Steve Rogers,” he replied, as his hand was captured in Jack’s warm and calloused grip. The man’s thumb brushed a quick caress over the back of his hand, giving Steve a shiver. The growth of Jack’s smile meant he’d spotted the involuntary twitch. Not a word about it left his lips, but he also didn’t drop Steve’s hand.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Jack said, tossing a thumb in the direction of the bar behind him. 

Steve didn’t protest the continued grip. Instead, he allowed himself to be drawn out of the shadows and over to an empty space at the bar. 

Though Steve’s eyes were watchful for snide looks about the way Jack held his hand, he saw none. It was almost as if the eyes of the crowd slid over them. Steve was used to being ignored, but this felt different. It was as if Jack carried a bubble of safety around him, insulating them both from reality.

Jack’s eyes and wicked smile were mesmerizing. Steve felt like a fly caught in a spider’s web, yet he made no move to struggle. This felt both reckless and comfortable all at once.

He was so lost in his head that he must have missed Jack ordering a round for them both. He startled back to himself, yanking his hand away from Jack, when the bartender slapped two glasses down in front of them.

There was no teasing from Jack at his jumpiness. Only a fond quirk of his lips, as if Steve was a particularly amusing new pet. His eyes twinkled over the rim of his glass as he watched Steve try not to blush. 

And just like that Steve’s stubborn pride welled up to overtake any nerves he might have had.

His chin came up in challenge as he reached for the glass on the bartop. He downed it in two healthy swallows, doing his best to ignore the burn, keeping his eyes on Jack the whole time.

Jack threw his head back in laughter, but it wasn’t vicious or mocking. It was friendly and inviting, making Steve join in with a chuckle.

That fast it felt like they’re friends. Or more. Like they understood each other. They began to chat. Jack knocked back the drinks, while Steve only sipped at his second round. Jack asked about Steve’s life, his friends, his hobbies, his family. Jack was witty and full to the brim of anecdotes. He’s a traveler, he says. When Steve asked how he can afford it, Jack winked and tells him that people are always more than accommodating.

For some reason, Steve found that funnier than he should. Maybe it was the company that has him feeling floaty. Or maybe the liquor. He normally didn’t drink as he usually didn’t have enough money to cover more than his half of the rent.

Even in the fuzzy haze he was currently enjoying, Steve felt the shift in the air. He saw the way Jack tenses ever so slightly.

Before he can think to ask what was wrong, a hand comes down on his shoulder. He looked up and there was Bucky. Bright blue eyes gone glacial as he stared at Jack. The smile he gave was a frigid thing, far from his usual warmth. “Who’s your new friend,” he asked, eyes never leaving the other brunette.

Even in the face of Bucky’s bad humor, Jack grinned and held out a hand. “Jack Harkness.”

Bucky meet it. “Barnes.”

Gaze bouncing back and forth between the two men, Steve felt dizzy. Still they didn’t break the shake. Steve could see Bucky’s knuckles gone white from his grip. 

He wasn’t sure why Bucky was playing this game with Jack. Usually he only did it with the boys that pick on Steve, and only when they were in mixed company. If it was down by the docks and there weren’t any ladies present, Bucky had no problem just sockin’ jaws. 

Whatever was happening, the two taller men were definitely communicating. Jack’s smirk morphed into something that Steve couldn’t categorize. 

Eventually it was Jack who pulls his hand back first. He slammed back the last of his drink and then stood. 

“It was nice to meet you Steve. Wish we could have gotten to know each other more, but I’m headed back over to England tomorrow.” He held out a hand for a goodbye. Steve reached for it automatically. He wasn’t expecting it when Jack yanked him forward. The momentum brought him right up against Jack’s chest. Steve blinked in confusion as he looked up. Jack offered no explanation, no warning. He simply dipped his head and caught Steve’s lips in a quick kiss.   
Steve sucked in a breath, stealing the air from Jack’s mouth. 

Then it was over.

Jack steadied him on his feet and stepped back. He tilted his head and gifted Bucky a mocking two-fingered salute. “Barnes.”

Thunder struck, eyes wide, Steve was scared to even look at his best friend. 

“We’re going home,” Bucky growled. His voice much closer than Steve was expecting. 

They don’t talk about Jack. They never never discuss that Steve’s first came was from a man. They especially don’t mention the way Bucky keeps a closer eye on Steve than ever before. 


	2. 1942

The army was everything that Bucky had thought it would be: muddy boots, hard labor, and the constant threat of death.

To be honest, those were exactly the same things that his current employers were offering him. Not that he’d exactly signed on with these Hydra-Nazis. But seeing as he was currently being held prisoner with the majority of the 107th and they were all being used as free labor, he was calling them his employers.

It sounded better in his head than captors or jailors or enemy. 

Besides it was a way to kill time with the other men; complaining about conditions, making plans to form a union. Bucky remembered a particularly boisterous man in a bowler hat making cracks about calling his union rep if got a gun shoved in his back one more time.

At least Steve was safe at home. There was no way the army would have let him in. No matter how determined the blonde was to get here.

One night there was a ruckus that stirred the weary men from their hard-earned rest. The guards appeared, dragging a dark-haired man between them. He was dump unceremoniously into overcrowded cell Bucky was occupying. 

The man remained prone as the guards locked the cell door and retreated. Then before anyone could offer him a hand, the stranger was rolling up to his feet.

“Well that certainly didn’t go the way I was hoping,” he declared as he pushed the hair back from his face. The man’s lips were quirked into a smile, his eyes roving over his new accommodations.

The stranger’s face seemed familiar. It tickled at a memory in the back of Bucky’s brian.

“Who are you,” Gabe questioned. 

For some reason, the query morphed the man’s smile into a devious smirk. The newcomer held out a hand to Gabe. “Jack Harkness,” he offered in a smooth voice, as if they were in a tavern about to enjoy a drink, not in this stinking prison.

Bucky found himself on his feet faster than he thought he had the energy for. He remembered this lug now. He was the one who’d toyed with Steve. The one who’d stolen the smaller man’s first kiss.

“You!” He grabbed at the front of Jack’s shirt with one hand while the other curled into a fist. “I owe you a beating.”

He would have clobbered the man’s smirking face if Gabe hadn’t stepped in. “Hold it together Barnes. You start a fight in here, the guards will come drag you off to one of those labs. No one comes back from that.”

With a snarl, Bucky shoved the man away from him before following to lean in close to Jack’s face. “We ain’t finished.”

“I can’t wait,” Jack retorted. His smile was dimmer now, but still present. It made Bucky want to tear into him. Only the threat of what happened to prisoners who caused a disturbance held him back. For the moment he still had hope that he would get out of this alive. That he would get back to Steve. He wasn’t going to ruin his chances solely for a payback.

Jack settled down across from him, leaning against the bars of the door. 

After a while, the others fell into slumber. Bucky couldn’t seem to find sleep. The memory of that night in the dance hall kept flashing through his mind. How he’d brought Steve hoping to show him a good time, but Lucy had dominated his time. How he’d found himself checking the corner Steve had stuck himself every thirty seconds. Then the worry when he’d lost sight of the blonde. The mild panic as he tried to extract himself from the girls so he could find Steve, concerned the punk had tried to walk home in the chill by himself. The burn of envy when he’d finally spotted Steve at the bar talking to the handsome stranger.

The the rage when Jack had pressed his lips to Steve’s. The very thing Bucky had been wishing for, waiting for, wanting. All without ever realizing. 

That night had opened his eyes to how he really felt. To the depth of emotion he had for his best friend and the lack of interest he had in taking things further than a single night with the dames he danced with. 

He thought Jack was sleeping too, the way he was slumped against the bars. So when his hushed voice floated across the space between them Bucky was surprised.

“That was quite a welcome Barnes. You should keep a better eye on your...friend if you’re gonna get that bent outta shape about a simple goodbye.”

Bucky knew the other man was egging him on, trying to get a rise out of him. Yet somehow he couldn’t prevent himself from rising to the bait. “You shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

Jack lifted his head and raised a brow. Then gave a pointed glance around the room.

Bucky took a deep breath and spoke more softly. “Because my friend doesn’t need that kind of attention. He already gets himself into enough fights all by himself. He doesn’t need that label hanging on him too.”

Silence filled the space for a moment. Bucky thought that meant Jack understood the seriousness of what he had done.

The laughter that followed proved anything but.

Scowling, Bucky waited until the laughter wound down. “You finished?”

Jack grinned. “Not by a long shot. If you really think you’re mad because I put a stigma on Steve’s pretty little head you need to take a long look in the mirror.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Huffing a breath of amusement, Jack shook his head. “Sure you don’t.”

“Why are you here,” Bucky asked, trying to think of any topic to get the conversation away from Steve. 

Running a hand through his hair, Jack let his head fall back until it thunked softly against the bars. “I thought there was something here that shouldn’t be. Something I could have used. My mistake. Now I have to get out of here.”

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes. “So do the rest of us.”

With a chuckle, Jack closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

There was silence once more. 

“You know,” Jack said softly, teasingly. “Steve wasn’t the only one I wanted to say goodbye to that night.”

Bucky had no words to respond. Soon enough sleep overcame his worn body.

When the sunrise bell roused the prisoners, the space where Jack had been was empty. The guards didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. No alarms were sounded, no interrogations performed. It was a mystery. 

If it wasn’t for the fact that his cellmates had seen Jack as well Bucky have believed it to be a dream. 

As it turned out he didn’t have much time to dwell on Jack’s disappearance. That afternoon he was dragged away from the work line and brought before a disgusting little man who sucked away his hope of ever making it back home.


	3. 2012

“Oh Captain, my Captain.”

The voice froze Steve in his tracks. He knew that voice. The suggestive tone, and accompanying smirk.

He shouldn’t. Its owner couldn’t possibly be here.

Here being the future, being Germany, being the sight of a terroristic attack by an alien claiming to be a god.

The serum had given Steve so many things: A better body, faster reflexes, super strength. The one thing no one had counted on it giving him was a perfect memory. He couldn’t forget. He was only a week out of the ice. A week in this bright new world. A week without a single familiar face. The past was more real than this new place. He could still feel the burn in his muscles from trying to keep up at boot camp. He could smell the smoke from the cigarettes Bucky used to smoke on the fire escape so he didn’t aggravate Steve’s asthma. He could see the moment when Bucky finally lost his grip and fell away from him. 

This eidetic memory made him remember the night he’d first heard that voice as if it had been last night. The ghost of a kiss played over his lips.

He turned, gaze seeking out the speaker, but there were too many people. The crowd still lingering after Loki’s show. 

Agent Romanov was standing by the jet speaking with Stark, though he could feel her gaze on him. He knew she was meant to be there as his keeper. SHIELD wasn’t about to let him run off on his own. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away for long, but that voice was the first familiar one he’d heard since he woke. He had to see if it was real. 

Or if the years in the ice had warped his mind. 

Perhaps all of this was a dream. Perhaps this was hell. His very own version. A future as scientifically amazing as Bucky could have hoped for, without his best friend. 

He moved through the chaos of police sirens, ambulances, and SHIELD agents with a confident stride. Peggy had taught him that trick. Act as if you have somewhere to be, as if you’re allowed to be there, and no one will bother you.

Though his sharp gaze scanned over the crowd with every step, he couldn’t seem to locate his quarry. 

Not until there was a low whistle from around the corner of a building he was passing. Hurrying to catch up, he was fast enough to see the edge of a long coat as it disappeared into an alley. He came around the corner with the shield ready on his arm. War and the uncertainty of this new future kept him on edge. 

There, looking nearly the same as he had that night, was Jack.

The other man smiled, eyes shining with more than simple nostalgia. “Looks like little Steve grew up into a few more muscles than I imagined. Though you’re just as handsome as ever.”

“Jack,” he breathed.

The brunette smriked. “That’s me. Have to say that I didn’t realize I was kissing a national icon back in that dance hall. If I had known I would have put a bit more effort in. Patriotic duty and all.”

“I don’t understand. How can you be here? I looked up your records. Captain Jack Harkness. Died in ‘41. I don’t...How?”

The grin fell away changing the whole shape of Jack’s face. “It’s a long story Captain. One I don’t think you have time for right now. I can hear SHIELD calling.”

Steve could hear them too. He needed answers though. He needed to know how it was that Jack was still alive. He had traveled to the future through the ice. How had Jack made the journey?

He glanced over his shoulder sensing someone’s approach. When he turned back, Jack was gone.

“You looking for something Rogers?” It was Romanov. His minder.

“No.” He turned to face her, adjusting his grip on the shield. “Let’s go.”


	4. 2014

The water from the Potomac had long been washed off his skin. The rest of that day was not as easily dismissed.

His mind was like a minefield. One wrong step would send him blasting through the air, skin tightening from the fire of the blast, ears ringing from the concussive force.

He was a weapon of war. But he was a weapon of peace. He was the Asset. He was The Winter Soldier. He was Russian.

Yet…

That man had called him Bucky.

That man had called him friend.

The stranger’s stubborn refusal to fight, his bright eyes, his voice. All of it had shattered his mind like a earthquake. The foundations his masters had built cracked and began to crumble.

Now crawling among the rubble he was trying to find himself.

There were things he knew, facts about himself he had read on a wall, but sometimes those things didn’t feel real.

There were two identities inside his head. Even more voices. Sometimes they overwhelmed him until he could do nothing but curl into a corner and cover his ears waiting for them to fade. 

The longer he was away from his handlers, the longer he was out of the ice, the louder the Bucky voice became. Yet it still wasn’t strong enough to force the others into submission. 

Today was a bad day. But he needed sustenance. He hadn’t had nourishment in nearly three days and his body was beginning to feel the toll of that.

Ghosts and shadows teased at the corner of his eyes. They taunted him in the reflections of glass windows and car mirrors as he walked. 

He knew they weren’t real. Yet he couldn’t help the instinctive way his muscles tensed for attack when an old enemy or a dead friend or both got too close. 

He knew he was crazy, and there was something almost freeing in that. He had so many doubts, so many transgressions he might be guilty of. Knowing he was crazy was the one fact he could count on as true.

As he made his way down to the local market, there was a part of his mind that was perpetually aware of the crowd around him. There was a constant string of numbers and calculations running in the back of his mind. Trajectories, threat assessments, speeds of the cars that passed by, the number of whys he could incapacitate the people around him.

With all the noise in his head, he almost didn’t register that he’d reached his destination.

He was after fresh fruit, some kind of dried meats for protein, maybe even some milk and ovaltine… if the company was still around. He didn’t have much money but there was enough to get him through. He wasn’t above begging, and had spent quite a few days with an empty cup on the street corner. He had stolen as well. Only from the places he remembered as belonging to Hydra or people he knew to be criminals, he refused to commit any more crimes against the innocent and Hydra was as far from innocent as he had ever seen. 

While he debated the ripeness of peaches, he tried to let go of the hyper-aware state he often found himself in. There were no threats here, he assured himself. The hunched old woman in her house slippers, the harried looking mother corralling three tots under five, the bored cashier; none of them were here for him. None of them were even paying him much attention.

He decided against the peaches, skipped right over the bananas, and went for the plums. For a single moment, everything faded into the background as he choose which plums he would take home with him. For a few seconds, he was merely another shopper, a man running his errands. Not a POW. Not a weapon. Not even a dead man.

“I can’t decide if I like the grungy biker or the sharp serviceman look better.”

He spun smoothly on one foot, bracing for attack. 

The stranger already had his hands up in the universal sign of ‘I’m unarmed’. A weary-looking smile on his face. “You’re a difficult man to pin down, James. Even for a man of my many talents.”

“Do I know you?” he growled.

The man wore a white collared shirt beneath a black vest with a silver chain for a pocket watch. His sleeves were rolled up exposing his forearms. “You did once. But it’s been a while. For both of us.”

He wasn’t sure how to take that declaration. But the name James seemed to fit him better than any of the others he had tried on. Perhaps it was only the way the man had said it. With familiarity and friendliness, but lacking in the obligation that Bucky made him feel.

The stranger remained where he was, smile still in place, while James tried to sort out his next move. 

Instinct from the Winter Soldier told him to run. There was no mission, no target. Therefore the man presented to risk to mission success. There was no reason for him to die. His only threat was to James himself. The best strategy would be to run.

That Bucky voice was pleading for him to stay. To ask questions, get answers. This man knew him, but which him had he known.

“Who are you?”

The stranger’s smile widened a bit at that. “Captain Jack Harkness. I know you’ve got a lot of broken memories in your head so I won’t expect you to remember me. However, I want to help you. I have a car outside and a bag with supplies. A few identities, cash in a few different currencies,” his eyes flicked over James’ clothes, “a few changes of clothes. I won’t offer a place to stay because I know you won’t take it, seeing as how you don’t know me that well.”

None of this made sense. Why would this man help him? 

As if he knows what was going through James’ mind, Jack lowered his hands and shrugged. “I understand a bit of what you’re feeling right now. And I assure you it will get worse before it gets better. Steve got to take the easiest way to the future. You and I had to travel the longer roads. Mine a bit longer than yours. Someone once said that only the good die young. The rest live long enough to see themselves become the villain.”

In Jack’s eyes, James could see regrets and guilt and pain. The same things he saw in the mirror. 

Silence hung between them.

James put down the plum he had been examining. “Lead the way, sweet cheeks.”

Jack chuckled at his snark and led the way. 


	5. 2017

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINISHED!! Yay!

Steve had found some semblance of peace. Not everything he really wanted, but enough. 

Bucky was healing. He had come out of cryo six weeks ago, after T’Challa and his people had found a way to remove the programming in his head. He wasn’t the same man Steve had known in the 40’s but Steve wasn’t the same either. He had mourned that loss, grieved for the time they had both lost, the lives that would never be theirs, and now he was getting to know the man who introduced himself as James to others. 

He was a study in contradictions. He referred to himself as James, yet he wanted Steve to call him Bucky still. Though he had been frozen repeatedly and undoubtedly had bad memories of such events, he seemed to prefer lower temperatures. Heat made him cranky and tired. He embraced the technology of this new age with child-like wonder, quickly becoming adept with anything he could get his hands on. Yet he still did some things ‘the old fashioned’ way. Like toast. The scary assassin could almost be brought to tears if you tried to get him to use a toaster.   

There were so many changes. Steve was eager to learn them all. They had the time now to explore the changes in each other, to make a study of the physical differences as well as the rest.

Though still in hiding, they were no longer on Wakandan soil. Together they had decided to take the chance on going back to the States. If there was a need for their help, they would be closer to Tony’s base of operations. Not all of their group had decided to follow. 

Clint had disappeared over the Wakandan border about a week after Bucky had gone into cryo. He had claimed that he had things to attend to, though he refused to say what. Steve was laying even odds on whether he was going to track Natasha down or meet up with Laura and his kids. Actually, it was entirely possible he was going to do both. Mrs. Barton and “Auntie Nat” had seemed overly close the few times Steve had seen them together.

Sam had chosen to stay in T’Challa’s palace for a while more yet. Through the sass, snark, and rolling eyes, the two men had come to some sort of understanding. Steve wasn’t sure what that meant long term, but he wished Sam the best of luck.

Scott and Wanda had come with them, but they were staying outside the city. Scott had proven to be just what Wanda needed. She had been so broken after her experience on the Raft. Afraid to speak, afraid to use her power, afraid to even move much. With a mixture of cynical humor and steadfast faith, Scott had helped draw her out. He was her protector, though she was undoubtedly the more powerful of the two. Though Scott had never met Pietro, Steve felt that he had stepped into the hole that the younger man had left. It would never be a perfect fit, but it was the bolster that Wanda needed.

Steve and Bucky had decided that the best place to hide was right under the nose of their pursuers. They had bunked down in a crappy little place in Brooklyn. Bucky had trimmed up his hair, though he still wore it longer than he had in the 40’s. He kept his arm hidden beneath leather jackets and gloves.  Steve had grown a small beard and dressed like an art student, complete with fake glasses. He went by Grant and made sure to be friendly but not overly so with everyone in the neighborhood. Though they were the most superficial of disguises, it was enough.

Their neighbors knew them as the quiet and helpful gay couple. If asked to be honest, they would probably say that they weren’t sure what James did for a living. That he seemed to spend most of his time in the house and when he was out Grant was never far away.

What the neighbors wouldn’t mention, because they made sure to keep such things away from prying eyes, was that the two were sickeningly devoted to each other. That the motorbike Steve had gotten for Bucky was their favorite mode of transportation, if only because Steve could slide up behind Bucky broad form and hold him close. That their mild manners fell away when they got outside the city limits. On straight stretches of highway and winding roads, Bucky would take the bike to dangerous speeds. He would wind between obstacles with mere inches of clearance. WIth his arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist and his hands splayed on the other man’s chest, Steve could feel the excited heartbeat. They would find some secluded park and burn off the adrenaline in the very best way.

It wasn’t perfect. More often than not there were nightmares or anxiety attacks. Tears, and shaking, and sobs. But each day got a little better.

Then came the day that Steve’s burner cell rang.

It was Tony, of course. Who else would it be?

Steve had kept the phone with him. Every minute of every day. He had made a promise and he wouldn’t fail to follow through.

It had rung only once. Then the call had dropped. Concerned, Steve had tried to call back. There had been no answer.

He had immediately gotten in contact with T’Challa to see if the king had heard anything. The long hesitation before he spoke had not reassured Steve.

“There is no immediate threat that I know of. Though I have been informed that Stark is revising the Accords. He has proposed a compromise that will enable your team to return home with full pardons.”

“Has he spoken to you?”

“Not directly. However, he has made sure that each new version of the revisions has made its way into my hands.” There was another pause. “From what I have seen of Stark, this may be the only way he knows how to apologize.”

Steve wasn’t blind to that fact, but he wasn’t really looking for an apology. They both had done what they thought they had to. He wouldn’t blame Tony for taking the path he had taken. 

While waiting to hear from Tony again, Steve decided they needed a night out. Bucky still didn’t do great with crowded or enclosed areas. However, they had found one neighborhood bar where they were comfortable. The music was a mix of country and rock, the stools were worn, and the bartenders were disinterested. Steve had never seen more than six people in the place at once. It was perfect.

They walked the few blocks to the bar, and took their customary seats at the end deep in the shadows. From there they had the best vantage points, and an easy escape hatch out the back. 

Neither of them could really feel the alcohol the same way anymore, but the greasy food here was surprisingly good. And sometimes it was nice just to enjoy the burn of whiskey. It reminded him of when he was young and his mother had given him a tiny swig to help him sleep, then later when Bucky had done the same.

They were two shots, and a dozen bad songs, in when the door opened to admit another patron.

The man moved as if in a daze. His eyes downcast, his feet shuffling to the very first open seat. 

Steve felt his breath catch. He knew that silhouette though it had been a few years now. There was no doubt that this newcomer was none other than Captain Jack Harkness.

Jack held up two fingers to the bartender. “Whiskey. Neat.”

The sound of his voice struck Bucky like a pin to his backside. Steve met Bucky’s eyes. They were just getting back to that easy silent communication they had always shared. This time it was crystal clear what they both were thinking. 

Still they waited. No sense in spooking the man.

Jack slammed back the whiskey and signalled for another. He did it twice more before the bartender put a water down in front of him instead. He glared at the liquid as if it had personally offended him. 

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” the bartender told him before he walked away.

Jack was still staring at the water with a pout when Steve and Bucky came up behind him. He gave a hearty sigh before lifting it to his lips.

“Wishing you were dancing instead,” Steve asked.

Jack choked. Water sprayed over the bar counter as he coughed. Even when he recovered he didn’t turn around. He stayed perfectly still, slightly hunched over the bar.

Steve shared another look with Bucky who gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“Are you gonna turn around, sweet cheeks,” Bucky asked. “Or are you gonna keep us waiting all night?”

With great care, as if he was an old man, Jack turned on the stool. He scrutinized them one by one as if assuring himself they were really there. “I don’t understand. Why are you here?”

“I’m fairly certain that we were here first,” Steve informed him. “So the question would be why are you here? Or an even better question: How did you get here? Here being 2017. Not this bar.”

“It is a nice bar, though,” Bucky pointed out.

Jack gave the brunette a flat look, before heaving a sigh and rubbing a hand over his face. When his eyes met theirs again, Steve finally saw the weariness. This was not the same energetic and confident man that had stolen his first kiss. This wasn’t even the cocky stranger who had disappeared from the alley. This was a broken man. A bright glass bauble that had been worn down and clouded by the crashing sea.

It was the same thing Steve saw in Bucky, even in the own mirror sometimes. A weariness born of too many years, too much change, too many heartbreaks, too many impossible choices.

“There are three ways to travel across a lake,” Jack began. His voice hushed, though none of the other patrons showed the slightest interest in their conversation. “One is to nap as the water carries you,” he motioned to Steve, “one is to skip across the surface like a stone, only touching down briefly.” Jack looked to Bucky then. “The last is the hardest, and few can attempt it. For the third, you have to weigh yourself down with rocks in your pockets. You have to sink to the bottom and trudge through the silt. You have to choke on the water, you have to drown. But you keep going. Because that’s all you can do.”

It was Bucky who reached out first. His flesh metal arm finding Jack’s hand and lacing their fingers together. 

Jack eyes were misty and filled with shadows, but a weak smile pulled at his lips when he looked at Bucky.

Steve slid closer, gently touching Jack’s cheek. He leaned down, pressing his lips toJack’s with the slightest of pressure. Only a whisper before he pulled back. 

“Sounds like you need someone with a boat,” Steve said as he straightened.

Beside him, he heard a huff of amusement from Bucky. “We might know a couple guys.”

  
  


Later, after they had paid their tab, after they had walked home, after Jack had told them of his curse and his choices, after Bucky had kissed Jack’s tears away…

Later, as Steve stood watch over the intertwined figures of the two men he wanted to protect above all others, he could only think that perhaps fate was granting them a gift. They had been forced to walk lonely roads so much longer than man was meant to. Yet somehow they had survived it. And somehow their roads kept intersecting. Perhaps, this was a chance for them all to walk this endless road together.


End file.
